


Elements

by Mayasynth



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Dissociation, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hardcore Hand-holding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nico's not okay man, Post-War, Uhhh like some minor suicidal/intrusive thoughts later on??, buT THERE;S FLUFF HONESTLY I PROMISE, dubiously canon weather???, gays in all weather hallelujah, they're nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6661303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayasynth/pseuds/Mayasynth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico likes the rain - Will prefers the sun, obviously. They come to a compromise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm not complaining that it's raining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY WHO’S READY TO READ ABOUT SOME NERDS IN THE RAIN ok but first up some disclaimers lmao:
> 
> 1) I haven’t read any of the books for like 77 years so there’s probably like a million inconsistencies with canon in this (not to mention the most obvious one: isn’t there like, no bad weather at camp?? shhh let’s ignore that). Feel free to point them out to me in the comments and I’ll fix them!  
> 2) Timewise, the first chapter is set in the late summer, a few months after the battle with Gaiea; the second one will be in the fall; and the third one will be that winter.  
> 3) If you’re reading my other fic SYaBSPM:MHGftNT I am so sorr y, I’ve had major writer’s block I’ll update soon I promise ;;u;;)
> 
> 4) Aaaand lastly, and **most importantly**: this gets pretty heavy, kids, so PLEASE be careful. Content warnings for: anxiety, depression, trauma, personal space issues, some sensory issues, etc., all that stuff. (like don’t get me wrong there’s still fluff tho) Stay safe kiddos!!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!! <3

Nico loved the rain.  
  
He loved the way the clouds rolled in slowly from the east, with stiff, cool breezes that brought blessed relief from the stifling heat. He loved how it started, only a few lonely and hesitating droplets at first, then getting heavier and heavier until distant shrieks rang out around the camp and people rushed for shelter. He loved the mist that curled up from the ground to twine around the trunks of the towering pines. He loved the patter of the heavy raindrops on the leaves, the ground, the top of his head, and then the steady dripping as they slid down his forehead and off the end of his nose. He loved that the rain could always clear his head like nothing else could - the niggling thoughts and doubts and whispered memories that constantly itched the back of his mind, drowned out for once by the gentle hissing roar.  
  
And plus, he liked the goddamn peace and quiet.  
  
Nico sat on a ragged tree stump in the middle of the forest, eyes closed. His hair, which normally sprang up in annoying as _hell_ feathery strands about his face, was pressed flat to his head with water. He probably looked like a drowned rat, to be honest, but he didn’t care. There was no one around to see him. And he never cared too much about his looks, anyway.  
  
_Except when -_  
  
Nico stomped that little thought down. Now was _not_ the time to think about that - especially after this afternoon. No, now was the time to dig his fingers into the softly splintering wood and watch his breaths cloud in the quickly-cooling air around him and remember what it was like to be calm, for once.    
  
It was surprisingly hard to remember.  
  
He used to be able to do it, long ago. He’d been a pretty chill kid in the Lotus Casino, he thought, and when he first arrived at camp. But then something happened (and he almost laughs bitterly at this one, because he knows _exactly_ what that ‘something’ was). and it all got worse from there, and now his mind races and his eyes dart and his hands shake and half the time there seems to be a flashing explanation point pulsing in his veins, screaming _Danger! Danger! Danger!!_  
  
For a while he thought it must just be the battle reflexes Chiron had once told him about. Maybe this was how it was for all demigods? Maybe he was just overreacting? ...But gradually he had decided that no, this must be something different, it _had_ to be - because he could see it in a few of the other campers, too.  
  
There were a few after the battle of Manhattan, and there were more, too, after this summer. He could pinpoint them from across the campfire every time, their shoulders tense and their eyes flickering back and forth in the firelight just like his did. He often wondered if he should talk to them, comfort them - but most of the campers were still wary of him and besides, what could he say? ‘Hey, sorry you’ve watched people die in front of you, so have I, wanna talk about it’? Or the good old favorite, ‘It gets better’? So he usually just closed his mouth, downturned his eyes, walked away.  
  
They didn’t need his comfort, anyway - because for them, it _did_ get better. Nico watched those campers over the weeks or months or years, watched as their friends and half-siblings threw arms around them, pulled them into mass hugs, gradually teased smiles from their faces. He supposed he should feel happy for them, and he did, but, well... not nearly as much as he should. Because his cabin was empty, and Hazel was across the other side of the continent, and he really didn’t like hugs anyway.  
  
After this summer, he’d debated for a long time over who he should tell about it (because he had to tell _someone_ , he’d realized, or one day he’d just scream, or snap, or simply break around the edges and shatter into a million pieces) but he hadn’t been sure whether he should go to Hazel, or Reyna, or Jason, or Chiron, or whatever. Eventually he’d been spared the decision when Will Solace had pulled him into the infirmary one day, sat them both on uncomfortable medical stools, and demanded that Nico tell him what was wrong.  
  
“Nothing’s wrong,” Nico had lied, glowering for emphasis. This usually worked, but not with Will, apparently.  
  
“Bullshit,” he’d responded, in a tone that was oddly stern and compassionate at the same time. Aggressively passive. “Whatever it is, it’s eating you faster than Valdez chokes down those disgusting cheese-mushroom-ketchup burritos of his, so spill.”  
  
He’d opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a few seconds, taken aback both by Will’s straightforwardness and that gruesome mental picture. And then.... he’d told him. He wasn’t really sure why he was being so honest, and with Will of all people, who he still hardly knew. Sure, they’d spent three days in each other’s general vicinity after the chaos at the end of the summer - Will running about the infirmary in a whirl of ambrosia and bandages, and Nico huddled in a bed in the corner willing his shivers to stop - but that didn’t really count as getting to know someone, did it?  
  
Nevertheless, there was _something_ about Will... something that always made the world a little quieter when he was around. Like everything else had gone slightly out of focus as soon as he stepped into the foreground. And it seemed like Will actually  _liked_ being around him. Whenever he’d finished dealing with the campers with you know, _actual physical injuries,_ he would always come over to check on him, and every time they talked he paid Nico his absolute and undivided attention. Which was weird. Nico had spent so long at the back, in the corner, in the shadows, that he’d forgotten what it was like to have someone who actually _looked_ at him like that. It was... nice.  
  
So Nico had told him.  
  
He’d sat there for a long while, he remembered, all fidgeting fingers and stumbling words, and he’d explained it as best as he could. He hadn’t thought he did a very good job about it, but thankfully, _somehow_ , Will knew what he meant anyway.  
  
When he’d finished, Will had reached over and lightly placed a hand on top of his. He’d flinched, because, to his own constant annoyance, he needed a personal space bubble like _six fucking feet wide._  
  
“That’s perfectly fine,” Will had said soothingly, quickly taking his hand back again. Nico felt relieved, if more than a little guilty for declining such a simple, normal gesture of human affection, for God’s sake. “And completely understandable. In fact, I’d probably be more surprised if you told me you _didn’t_ have anxiety by this point, di Angelo.”  
  
Nico had blinked, and looked upwards to see Will smiling at him. It was an odd smile, sad but comforting. “What?”  
  
“You’ve been through a lot. More than anyone should.” Will clenched one of his own hands around the other, like he was imagining squeezing Nico’s instead. “We all have, but you especially. So it’s okay - you’re allowed to feel like that.”  
  
Nico couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Surely, this was the point where Will should have raised an eyebrow, turned away - told him he was weird and exceptional in all the worst ways, just like everyone else had been telling him that wordlessly for years. But instead... Will had understood. _Will_ , who was tall and blond and wore shorts like it was easy, who had friends and told jokes and hummed while he walked, Will who seemed so overwhelmingly _normal_ \- how was it that he could _possibly_ understand? But Nico didn’t say any of that, of course. While miracles didn’t happen often to Nico di Angelo, he could at least accept them when they did.  
  
The next day, after breakfast, Will had claimed that Lou Ellen was taking a nap, so he’d asked Nico to keep him company instead as he cut charmed bandages in the infirmary back room. The day after that, he’d convinced Nico to help out teaching the younger Apollo kids archery, because he himself was ‘so mediocre it’s frankly laughable’. And so it went on. Nico was aware that it was faked, that Will was doing this on purpose to try to reach out to him - but for once, he swallowed his panic and worry and let himself be reached out to, just a little.  
  
And gradually, in the quiet moments, in the empty infirmary or the forest or some secluded spot off by the lake shore where Will demanded they go on long walks like a puppy, Nico told him the other things, too. About the happy memories he had with his mother, and with Bianca. About unhappy memories he had without them. About how he woke up every few weeks in the middle of the night to the walls and the ceiling rushing in to meet his face, and the horribly musty smell of jar dust in his nose. About how some nights he didn’t sleep at all, and some nights he slept far too long, past breakfast and almost to lunch, and most of the time no one noticed. About how on those mornings, he’d wake up with what felt like a thick, acrid fog in his head and his heart and his lungs, gnawing on his insides until there was only an empty space where they used to be. He almost preferred the panic and the nightmares to those days.  
  
(Of course, there was one thing that he _didn’t_ tell Will, and he planned to keep it that way - although to his growing mortification, it seemed like Will knew anyway.)  
  
In return, Will told him about his own nightmares. There were the faces of the brothers and sisters and others he’d lost, and blood-soaked bandages and the death-rattle breathing that Nico knew only too well. And worst of all, he’d told Nico once as he leaned against an aging oak, trying to sound calm but his hands were shaking, too - worst of all were those that he didn’t save. Not couldn’t - _didn’t._ There were so many injured, sometimes, that he had to prioritize and rank each patient in terms of urgency. And sometimes he judged wrong.  
  
“It was just a stab wound. It wasn’t fatal. But I - I left her. There was another Ares kid who looked like he was right on the brink, and me and Kayla, we managed to save him but - she didn’t last as long as I thought she would.”  
  
“It wasn’t your fault. You had to make a choice, and you didn’t know.”  
  
Will had nodded, ever so slightly, and muttered something - _“Sarah, that was her name,”_ \- but apart from that, he had stayed silent for a long time. He just stood there, hands clenched in his pockets, and frowning at the sky.  
  
“Do you think....” he’d said eventually. “I mean, I don’t know if you’d know, but... the dreams. Are they dreams? Or are Michael and Lee and Sarah, are they actually -”  
  
“They’re at rest,” Nico said quickly. “I could feel it if they weren’t.” Actually, he had no idea about the girl - he’d never met her, she was just a name. He didn’t know what her presence would feel like, in the underworld or not. But it was a lie he was willing to tell.  
  
Will nodded again, his expression troubled, and Nico realized then that he couldn’t tell which answer he had wanted to hear.  
  
It was odd though, their talking. You’d think that dwelling _more_ on death and dying would have made things worse, but it didn’t. In fact, it did the opposite.  
  
It helped to know that even perfect Will Solace wasn’t so perfect after all.  
  
A soft cracking sound, like someone stepping on a twig, wrenched Nico back to the present. His eyes snapped open. He was immediately on his feet, peeling back the wet hair from his eyes with one hand and drawing his sword with the other. He heard the sound again, behind him now, and he turned around to see -  
  
A squirrel.  
  
It was a fucking _squirrel_.  
  
...Well, a skeletal squirrel, but harmless nonetheless.  
  
He let out a shuddering breath, half a soft laugh, and sank down onto the stump again. He’d been doing this far too often recently, accidentally bringing things forth from the earth when he got too absorbed in his thoughts, and it scared the shit out of him every time. He let his hair fall back into his face, watching the long, damp strands sway back and forth as he willed his heartbeat back under control. His hands were shaking again. _Dammit_.  
  
Meanwhile, the squirrel, weird looking as it was without a tail, scurried up to sit next to him and looked at him curiously. He squinted at it through his bangs, breathing deeply in and out. It was holding a nut.  
  
“What are you gonna do with that, huh?” he asked, surprising himself with how soft his voice sounded, considering how ready he’d been to, like, _kill a man_ a few seconds earlier. The squirrel made a squeaking sound - _how?_ It didn’t have vocal chords? - and ran off towards the base of a tree, where it began busily to dig a hole. For the nut, presumably.  
  
“Ah well,” Nico muttered to himself. “Everyone needs a hobby, I guess.”  
  
He closed his eyes again, ready to lose himself in the still pouring rain, when an irritated voice rang out through the forest. It almost echoed in the damp, heavy air.  
  
_“Nico!”_  
  
“Fuck,” he said to himself. Softly, but with feeling.  
  
He would have run away, because he really wasn't in a people mood, but tiredness and cold ached in his bones. Besides, he was 99% sure he knew who the owner of that voice was - and if there was ever, rarely, an exception to the no-people mood, it was him. Sure enough, Will’s legs, then his torso, and then finally his head soon emerged not so gracefully from a nearby monstrous magnolia tree. He straightened himself, picked a damp magnolia leaf from his hair, then put his hands on his hips and glared at Nico.  
  
_“Nico di Angelo.”_  
  
“William Solfrid Solace,” Nico drawled back.  
  
He winced and muttered something about never trusting Nico with any personal information ever again, then re-focused his frown.  
  
“Nico, would you like to tell me why the hell you're sitting out here in the rain when everyone else is inside? And how long have you been out here?”  
  
He shrugged.  
  
“I like the rain,” he said simply.  
  
Will sighed. “You’re going to catch a cold, you know that? You're going to catch a cold and die and I will have _'I fucking told you so_ ' carved on your grave.”  
  
When Nico said nothing, he sighed once more, softer, and walked over towards him.  
  
“Shift,” he said, and Nico dutifully made space. It wasn’t that big of a stump, really, but there was still enough room for them both to sit without bumping knees, which Nico was glad of. They sat there for a few minutes, without talking, simply listening to the rain - and Nico was glad of that too.  
  
“What’s up?” Will asked eventually, breaking the crisp silence.  
  
Nico opened his mouth to explain, then closed it again. He settled on making a small, exasperated noise, instead. It was childish, he knew that, but he felt that incoherent grunting expressed his feelings at this moment better than any words could.  
  
“Is it the Stoll brothers?”  
  
Nico turned, surprised, and the words were out before he could think. “Wh- how did you know?”  
  
As he mentally kicked himself, Will’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Well, when I came back to the infirmary and asked the room at large where you’d gone off to, they both shifted about looking guiltier than sin, so I kinda put two and two together.”  
  
Nico’s stomach twisted with nerves again at the memory. Earlier that afternoon, he’d gone to the infirmary in a fit of boredom to help out Will. Although, as there were hardly any major injuries these days now that the wars were over, ‘helping out’ usually consisted of talking or spinning around on the medical stools until one of them felt sick. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon.  
  
It turned out that that morning, however, Leo had decided to introduce the campers to an innovative game of his own creation called ‘Fire Tennis,’ which had resulted in burns  all round and minor lacerations from flying bits of melted racquet. (“Admittedly, I probably should have checked if the racquets were fireproof or not... Sorry about that.” “That’s your _only_ regret, Valdez? _Really?!_ ”) As a result, Will had spent most of the day patching up players and innocent bystanders alike.  
  
Connor and Travis Stoll had been the last ones left, sitting on one of the gurneys and nursing matching burns. Grey light from a growing storm drifted through the windows, and Will fussed around with spreading healing ointment on their burns. He turned around to rifle through his medical kit for some bandages - and that was when it happened.  
  
“Goddamnit, I can’t find - hey, Nico, hun, can you pass me the scissors?”  
  
“Sure.” He handed them to Will, then happened to catch sight of the twins over his shoulder, and froze. The two wore matching expressions of utter glee. Slowly, Connor mouthed the word _“hun?!”_  
  
Nico paled. It was a stupid nickname, he knew, and the first few times Will had used it teasingly Nico had shoved him and rolled his eyes. Every time though, it seemed like he meant it with a touch less irony and a touch more sincerity - and oddly enough, Nico didn’t find he minded. It was fitting - a lame, dorky nickname from a lame, dorky boy.  
  
But he’d never used it when anyone else was around.  
  
Will didn’t seem to notice, of course. With one last muttered swear he turned around and headed across the room for the door.  
  
“I’m out of bandages, guys. I’ll have to get more from the storage room, be right back.”  
  
“Sure thing, hun!” Travis yelled, but the door was already closing, and it didn’t seem like Will had heard. The twins grinned at him, and he felt his cheeks begin to burn.  
  
“Shut up,” Nico said, turning away from them so that they couldn’t see. His stomach flipped over and over, his hands were shaking - _god,_ he was going to be sick - he swallowed hard and snapped the medical box shut, lifting it up to put it away.  
  
Travis shrugged. “Didn’t say anything.”  
  
“He’s southern, that’s what he does,” Nico heard his mouth say, back still to them. Distantly, he was aware of the taps of a few drops of water hitting the other side of the windows. It was starting to rain.  
  
“Yeah, right,” Connor snickered. “‘Cuz he says that to everyone. Right Travis?”  
  
“Yea! In fact, I heard him call Chiron a ‘hun’ just the other day.”  
  
“Nah, Travis, you heard wrong, he called him _‘honey-bun sweetums -”_  
  
A crack of thunder overhead almost seemed to echo Nico’s own snapping patience, and he decided that he’d had enough. He placed the kit with rather more force than was necessary into its rightful cubby, turned on his heel, and stalked out the door. He’d felt only the slightest twinge of satisfaction when the sound of the twins’ laughter was cut short as they noticed the tendrils of ice crawling up the walls and crusting the windows in his wake. It had taken all his self control not to do more.  
  
The worst part was, he knew _full well_ he was overreacting. The Stolls were annoying, but they didn’t mean any more harm in their teasing than did Jason, or Hazel, or Percy, or the _entirety of the Aphrodite cabin_ , or anyone else who’d sent smirks and knowing looks his way these past few months. Whenever they managed to make him blush, they’d laugh and smile because they were having a good time and it was just joking, it was _fun_ \- except it wasn’t for Nico. It wasn’t just embarrassing; it was mortifying. It was terrifying. It made his heart pound and his tongue tied and he felt like he was going to be sick, because they _knew_ , all of them knew even though he’d hardly told anyone, and it felt like he’d emerged from the shadows only to have the deepest, most hidden part of him pulled out and thrust into the spotlight.  
  
Why couldn’t they just leave him _alone?_  
  
I mean, he wasn’t an _idiot_. He knew what was going on. He’d had crushes before, and in the past few months since he’d first had the talk with Will, he’d recognized all the warning signs. But he wasn’t... he wasn’t _ready_. There was still an insurmountable gap between him and Will, between him and the rest of the world really - a trench that he’d dug long ago to stop anyone from hurting him, but that he was trying now to gradually fill back in. It was slow work, and it was hard, and it was painful. But one thing was for sure: the antics of a dozen cooing Aphrodite children didn’t help one bit.  
  
Nico was wrenched from his thoughts as Will kicked a leaf gently in his direction. He watched it for a few seconds, then kicked it back, aware that his cheeks were horribly warm under the cool rain after that last train of thought.  
  
“...So, do I need to beat anybody up?”  
  
Nico blinked, taken aback, then laughed. The sound felt strange, sudden and harsh in the quiet atmosphere. “First of all, what happened to you being a ‘devout pacifist’? And second of all, you know damn well if I needed anyone beaten up I could do it myself.”  
  
Will hmm-ed, resting his head in his hands. “True. You could probably beat me up.”  
  
“Damn right.”  
  
“You wouldn’t, though.”  
  
Nico squinted at him through a few strands of his wet bangs. “And why wouldn’t I?”  
  
Will turned to him with his best shit-eating grin. “Because you like me so much.”  
  
Nico wondered if there was some sort of award for keeping one’s face perfectly still while suffering a minor heart attack. He paced his breathing, told himself that it was  _okay,_ it was fine, because Will either didn't know what he was saying, or he  _did_ and he... was fine with it. Somehow, though, neither of those options did anything to calm his nerves. After a few more seconds of staring incredulously at Will, he swallowed and turned back to face the trees.  
  
“Yeah well, I might change my mind if you keep calling me ‘hun’ in front of the Stolls.”  
  
“...Oh.” Out of the corner of his eye, Nico saw the grin slip right off Will’s face, replaced with a look of utter horror. “ _Oh._ Oh, _gods -”_  
  
“Yeah,” Nico said flatly.  
  
“Oh gods, Nico, I’m so sorry.” Will sounded genuinely stricken. “It just came out - what did they say to you? I’ll feed them to the harpies, _I swear -”_  
  
“It’s fine,” Nico said quickly. “Really - they were just... they were only teasing. I’m just being stupid about it.”  
  
“Still, they should have known better,” Will said sternly, and then Nico watched as his face softened. “And you’re not being stupid, Nico. Not at all.”  
  
Nico nodded ever so slightly, and swallowed, and turned back to his knees.  
  
"I'm sorry, Nico."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
A crack of thunder sounded overhead, but distantly. The storm was moving away.  
  
“...Are you ready to go back inside?” Will asked eventually.  
  
Nico shrugged slightly. “No, not really. I like the rain.”  
  
He felt eyes on him and turned around to find Will staring.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Wait, so you mean you were actually serious earlier?” Will asked incredulously.  
  
“Yeah?” Nico said, a little defensively. “What’s so weird about that?”  
  
“Well - nothing, I guess, it’s just....” Will gestured to the scenery around them, and then to his own soaked hair. He peeled a section of it away from his forehead and then watched in distaste as it flopped back down again. “Rain is pretty miserable. And aren’t you freezing cold? You’ve been out here for ages. Your fingers are gonna go numb soon. As your doctor, I really do think we should get your ass some warm towels and a bowl of soup.”  
  
Nico felt a prick of guilt as he deliberately withheld the fact that the tips of his fingers and toes had gone numb half an hour ago. Actually, in a weird way, he appreciated the uncomfortable cold constricting the ends of his fingers, and the numbing of his nose - it was the only thing anchoring him to the ground as his thoughts jumbled and drifted in the wind. Sometimes, when his mind was feeling particularly far away, he’d let the temperature drop around him until the frost bit at his skin and drew icy patterns on his fingernails, just to remind himself that he was _here_ \- he was real. He wasn’t shadows yet.  
  
He decided that he probably shouldn’t tell Will about that last bit, either. Not yet, at least.  
  
“Rain isn’t miserable,” he said instead, indignantly. “It’s peaceful. And pretty.”  
  
Will screwed up his mouth. “Grey skies and squelchy leaves?”  
  
Nico rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand, sunny-side up.” He ignored Will’s squawk of indignation and pointed upwards through the trees. “You see the clouds? They’re not just grey, they’re purple too, and dark blue and navy, and sort of lavender over there. And they have layers - see that one moving faster than the rest, where the wind’s picking up? The highest layer always looks like you’re under the ocean.”  
  
He pointed again, lower this time. “Sometimes there’s this mist, too, like the clouds are so low they’re on the ground. If you look carefully, you can see it swirling around the trees. Oh yeah, and the trees get greener, too. All the plants do. I’m no son of Demeter, but I can tell they like it. And -”  
  
He was about to tell Will about the water droplets, the ones that stuck to the curled leaves of the ferns and on the underside of branches, and the little puddles that gathered in the hollows of the tree roots and on top of boulders, when he realized he’d been talking for a long time. Probably the longest he’d talked at once in a week - maybe more.  
  
“Anyway,” he said, lowering his arm and propping his hands on the stump behind him, hunching his shoulders slightly. “I just - think it looks kinda nice, that’s all.”  
  
“Yeah, it does,” Will agreed, but something about the tone of his voice made Nico look up. He was smiling a lopsided little smile, and looking right at him.  
  
“What?” Nico said, feeling like he was missing something.  
  
Will laughed, but it was a soft laugh. Not like he was laughing at him.  
  
“Never mind,” he said, and gazed up into the sky like Nico had been doing a moment before. He squinted in the falling drops. “Well, ok. I still think rain sucks, but you might have warmed me up to it a little, di Angelo.”  
  
“Good,” Nico said, sounding satisfied, and Will laughed again.  
  
Nico closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the water run across his closed his eyelids and down his face. They sat there for a while longer, without speaking, as the rain slowly trickled to a light drizzle, and then to a stop. Somewhere in the forest, a few birds started singing.  
  
Nico felt a slight movement and opened his eyes to see one of Will’s hands held in front of him, face-up. He deliberated for a moment, then took it and silently let their hands fall to the space on the stump between them. His skin buzzed at the contact, shocked by the warmth of Will’s in contrast to his own. Most of the time it would have been too much - most of the time he shook his head and Will withdrew his hand, and he would have felt guilty for not taking it except that Will always offered him a dazzling smile instead. But sometimes, like this time - sometimes his nerves settled enough that he could allow himself to take another tiny step across the bridge that stood between them.  
  
Will squeezed his hand lightly, then shifted it and intertwined their fingers. The warmth spread slowly through his hand, thawing it one knuckle at a time.  
  
“Will?” Nico asked eventually, when the last of the rain had been wrung from the trees’ branches, and the sun was starting to poke gently through the clouds again.  
  
“Hmm?” He opened his eyes to look at Nico - he sounded almost like he’d been dozing off.  
  
“Didn’t you want to go back inside?”  
  
He shrugged. “I’m good. Do you?”  
  
Nico thought about it, watching the slowly drying curls of hair on Will’s forehead wave slightly in the breeze. They glinted like tarnished gold.  
  
“No,” he decided. “Not yet.”  
  
Will nodded serenely and closed his eyes again, tightening his grip on Nico’s hand.  
  
“Then I’ll stay with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Me, as I’m writing this*: What kinda gay ass shi t


	2. I'm just sayin I'd like it a lot more than you'd think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOO sorry guys, I meant to have this one up like a week ago, but finals are kicking my ass. (On a side note, WHO’S PUMPED FOR TRIALS OF APOLLO???? AYYYYY)

Nico hated the heat.  
  
He _hated_ it. The scorching sun that beat down on him, making every exposed inch of skin tingle and burn to the touch. Whenever he stayed in full sun for more than a minute or two, he began to feel that he was being slowly cooked from the outside in, roasted and charred to a shriveled black husk. He was fed up of squinting in the harsh sunlight through dry, itchy eyes, and even when he closed them it didn’t help because it was so hot his _eyelids_ burned. And fuck, the _humidity -_ it was like living in a tepid bath, his damp hair pressing heavy to his forehead and his t-shirt sticking to his chest. Everything was just too hot, too hot, _too hot._  
  
He’d already had two internal temper tantrums to this effect today, and now he was verging on a third. The first happened when Jason had knocked on his door and dragged him out to breakfast, and even then in the morning it had been warm enough to leave him irritated and sweaty after less than five minutes. The heat had sapped both his energy and his appetite. Even Jason’s best concerned-mother-hen impression hadn’t been enough to make Nico eat more than a quarter of a half-hearted waffle.  
  
The second time had been just before noon, when it had been his turn to help the younger kids with archery. Usually he enjoyed this, as he was actually pretty fond of kids (although, when Hazel had accused him of this once, he’d vehemently denied it, looking her straight in the eye while three children clung to his legs like koalas and begged him to ‘make the bone mice again’), but today had been the exception. The archery range was on a slightly lower level than the rest of the camp, and plus it was covered in sand, which resulted in it having absolute _shit_ drainage. It was still slightly soggy from the rain a couple of days ago, so Nico and the kids had been plagued the entire time by mosquitos so large they could have used them for target practice.  
  
The instant archery ended, he’d dashed back to his cabin, ignoring Jason and Piper’s pleas on the way to join them for lunch. There was no _way_ he was going to socialize with anyone while he was that sweaty and gross. After a long, fantastically cold shower, he’d pulled on the lightest pair of jeans he owned (Piper suggested daily that if he ever wore anything besides black skinny jeans he would be cooler. He suggested daily that she shut up) and lay right in the middle of his cabin on the marble floor.  
  
It was, quite simply, bliss.  
  
He lay, feeling the cold stone suck the heat from his shoulder blades and staring up at the ceiling, wondering if he should ask to put in a ceiling fan. Technically speaking, he probably didn’t even need to _ask_ \- he could just shadow travel to a home depot, buy one, and then get a few skeleton warriors to put it up for him. But even the thought of all that using his powers exhausted him. Ever since he’d discovered the various useful applications of his underworld skills, he’d been struck with a very weird feeling of independence. It was weird because, well, he could go essentially anywhere he wanted in the world, any time - but every time he did, it sucked a little more from him, made him a little bit less _real-_ feeling, right to the very core of his being.  
  
He supposed he was being selfish. Surely countless people would jump at the chance to be able to visit the Great Wall of China or the deepest untouched reaches of the Amazon with a snap of their fingers - even if it _did_ mean blacking out and throwing up and taking full minutes and hours just to sit and breathe and stare at their hands, willing their fingers back into existence again.

But for him - was it worth it? It was dangerous, and not just in the sense that he could arrive twenty feet higher above the ground than he’d expected, or get eaten by a tiger or something. No - it was dangerous in the sense that sometimes he actually felt a sick sense of _contentment_ when he noticed the tips of his fingers starting to fade away and his mind filled with empty buzzing. Reality was so tiring. Being a person, simply _existing,_ was tiring. It would be so, so easy for him to keep going, from shadow to shadow to shadow, until there was nothing left of him but shadows themselves.

Underworld powers were truly wasted on the mentally unstable, he thought to himself wryly.

Then, despite everything, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly - because his deeply morbid musings had reminded him, oddly, of what Percy and Annabeth had said a week-ago, on their first Iris-message back to camp from college at New Rome.

“It’s so weird!” Percy had exclaimed, his grin looking slightly lop-sided through the shimmering misty rainbow. “There’s no curfew. I can drive out and get a slushie at 2 A.M. if I want to, and there’s no one to stop m--!”

In the background, Annabeth, who’d been sitting studying at her desk with a pencil tucked neatly behind her ear, spun around on her swivel chair and hit the back of Percy’s head with a long plastic ruler. It made a satisfying _thwack!_ , and Percy yelped.

“You have a test tomorrow, idiot. No more midnight snack runs until you’ve actually done some practice problems,” she said, glaring.

Percy rubbed the back of his head. “Well, ok - I guess there’s _one_ person to stop me,” he muttered.

There were consequences to freedom, Nico supposed. Except that in his case, if he shadow travelled to the nearest McDonald’s for a slushie at 2 A.M., _his_ consequence would be the gradual deepening of the yawning chasm in the base of his soul, not a chewing out from Annabeth.

...Then again, he’d seen Annabeth when she was angry. Maybe the yawning chasms weren’t so bad after all.

A loud knock at his cabin door shattered his peace and quiet. He peeled himself up from the floor and realized, with shock, that there were faint tendrils of frost curling across the marble tiles from where his hands had been. He wondered with irritation why he couldn’t ever do that on _purpose -_ gods, it would have been nice to have a bit of frost on the archery range that afternoon.

The knock sounded on the door again, and Will’s voice came drifting cheerily through.

“Hey, Neeks! Open up!”

“Fine, fine, I’m coming.” Nico was about to get up and open the door, when he realized with a sudden jolt of mortification that he was still shirtless. He snatched a black t-shirt from his bed, uttering a quick prayer to anyone who’d listen that it was clean, and pulled it over his head, covering the network of knotted scars that covered his torso. He took a few seconds in front of the mirror to paw ineffectually at his messy, damp hair, trying to make it look like he’d _maybe_ not just been dragged through a hedge backwards. As he was doing so, half of him wondered in irritation why he bothered.

The other half knew _exactly_ why he bothered.

Finally, he wrenched open the door to see Will standing in the doorway, hand raised like he was about to knock again. His hair was wet too, oddly, except that it was _artfully_ messy, and wait, wait, his shirt was wet too and stuck close to his shoulders, and really most of his clothes were soaked through and he was grinning and what the hell was going on oh god this was so _unfair_.

“Water balloons,” Will said, by way of explanation.

“Ah,” Nico managed.

Will barged in - or rather, Nico moved aside and Will walked in, but everything about him was so _unreasonably offensive_ at this point anyway that he might as well have punched Nico in the face and stepped over his unconscious body into the cabin. Nico desperately tried to pull himself together as he shut the door, listening to Will’s footsteps across the cabin and the dull _thunk_ as he tossed his damp flip-flops into the corner.

“You should have come!! It was great fun - or, well, it was great fun until the Hephaestus cabin joined in, and brought their own automated balloon launcher,” Will said, talking quickly and excitedly, which was adorable, which was awful. “But we had a couple of Hecate campers on our side, and they enchanted some awesome heat-seeking balloons, and even a few filled with this nasty green _slime_ stuff?” He grinned. “I got Leo with one of those. Never seen him look more outraged in his life.”

He sat down cross-legged on the floor, easily and casually, a section of his wet hair falling in front of his face. “We haven’t really had a good water-balloon fight at camp for a few years, because of, you know, Percy. He always claimed he never used his powers to mess with the balloons but it’s lies, all lies. You should come out and join us next time! Even though I know you probably dissolve if you come into contact with water.”

He raised his hands into the air and hissed, pretending like he was melting - which was a reference that Nico actually _knew_ this time, he realized with a hint of satisfaction. He sat down on the floor across from Will, who continued to melt dramatically into a puddle.

“Yea.”

It was amazing, really, how Will could tell from a single word - especially considering that Nico wasn’t exactly talkative at the best of times. He could see the alarms going off in Will’s head, in real time. He stopped melting and lowered his arms, inspecting Nico from head to toe. It was a quick glance, but Nico caught it.

“You alright today?” he asked, casually, but with an meaningful undertone.

It was a laughable question, especially considering that today was beginning to be one of Those Days, judging by his earlier spell of lying on the floor contemplating fading into oblivion - that was usually a pretty good indicator of that sort of thing. But the fact that Will cared enough to ask was... nice. It was just nice.

He sighed, letting out all the air in his lungs, and then shrugged at Will. “I guess. It’s too hot.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, and they both knew it. But it wasn’t a _lie -_ the heat _was_ part of the reason why he was feeling so shit today. It tired him out and it made him lose his focus, until the buzzing of the irritated thoughts inside his head almost drowned out the buzzing of the bugs outside.

...And plus, the cicadas and the humid air always reminded him of summers back in Italy -

 _Nope._ Not thinking about that.

He impulsively reached over and clasped his skull ring, twisting it around his finger as Will continued to look him up and down. His eyes were worried, and Nico felt bad about that, because it was his fault that the worry was there, like usual. Will opened his mouth like he was going to speak, and Nico’s heart jumped - he tried to tell Will, without words, repeating it over and over in his mind -

_\- please, I don’t want to talk about it, not right now, change the subject -_

“Hey - you know your shirts on inside-out, right?”

Nico uttered a silent thanks to the gods, or to Will, or both. Whoever. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, then blinked as what Will had said actually actually filtered through to his brain.

“Wha -? Oh.”

He looked down and saw a label sticking up near his neck. He pried his fingers off his skull ring and lifted his hands to pull at the collar, peering down to see what shirt it was he was actually wearing -

...Oh, _shit._ The words ‘I WOKE UP LIKE THIS’ were emblazoned across the front in bold white letters. Hazel had gotten it for him last birthday, and even though he made carefully sure that he only wore it as pajamas and that no other living human being saw him wearing it, it was pretty much his favourite shirt. He was also at least 87% sure that Hazel knew this.

“Um,” he said, hurriedly dropping his collar back down. He felt the tips of his ears turn red. “That’s ok. I can’t be bothered changing.”

The corner of Will’s mouth twitched upwards - but then he turned solemn again, and Nico’s heart skipped a beat. Nico recognized that expression - that was the _I’ve got some stern doctorly advice for you, Nico_ face, which wasn’t fair, because come on, they’d only just changed the subject _away_ from all that -

“Jason told me you didn’t eat much for breakfast. Or lunch, at all.”

Nico felt a twang of guilt. He’d known Will was probably going to bitch at him about breakfast, but truthfully he’d completely forgotten about lunch.

“Yeah, well, Jason is a dirty tattle-tale,” he grumbled, scowling.

“In fact,” Will said, a touch of mischievousness in his voice, “Jason even suggested - just as an idea, you know, just a suggestion - that if you keep skipping meals, that’s grounds for you to be admitted to the infirmary again so I can make sure you’re eating enough.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. “Jason is dead to me.”

Will laughed, all sternness gone, then leaned back on his hands and looked Nico directly in the eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to you again, I know you hated being cooped up. It’s just... Nico, you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

He spoke so gently that Nico could almost hear the unspoken words at the end - _for me._ He felt a shiver run down his spine, and he felt his ears start to turn red again, so he looked away from Will’s eyes and played absent-mindedly with a bit of leaf that Will had brought in on his shoes.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I don’t - do it on purpose, you know.”

It was a lie, sort of - he _did_ sometimes do it on purpose. But this time, it was true.

Will nodded, and they sat for a second, letting the silence put an end to that train of conversation. Then he stood up, brushed non-existent dust from his legs, and smiled.

“Well, good thing I have a better idea than Jason. Come on!”

He made for the door, and Nico felt a pang of dismay. “What - out?”

“Yeah, out!”

“But,” Nico said desperately, sounding whiny and he knew it - “It’s so _hot_.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Dude, are you kidding me? It’s like, 85.”

“87,” Nico said defensively. “I checked. Plus humidity. It’s the hottest it’s been this time of year since 1972.”

He didn’t mention that when he’d seen the year 1972, he’d had the usual momentary disorienting jolt like always. _That’s far off - no wait, that’s in the past. Shit._ It was like after New Year when you found yourself still trying to write the previous year’s number in February - except that when Nico slipped up he started with a _1._

Will snorted. “It gets hotter than that down south, hun.”

“Yes, I’m aware of how climates work,” Nico said drily. He looked down at the floor again, scowling at the bit of leaf. “Look - that doesn’t change the fact that I _hate_ the summer, okay? I just _hate_ it, it’s so sticky and I feel like I’m _melting_ and -”

“You’d change your mind about coming out if you heard my idea,” Will said, sounding a little preemptively smug.

Nico narrowed his eyes at him. “No I wouldn’t.”

Will told him.

Nico - _begrudgingly,_ and not without several dirty looks _-_ left the cabin.

. . .

“Wow, you’re right Will. This was a great idea,” Nico drawled sarcastically, holding half a pint of freezer-burned chocolate ice cream.

Will grumbled. “Hey, how was _I_ supposed to know there’s hardly any left? There’s usually like, a whole tub or two in here, in case of an emergency ice cream sundae party. I guess some assholes must have raided it.”

“By ‘assholes,’ you mean people doing exactly what we’re doing now.”

“Exactly!” Will leaned farther into the freezer and rummaged about amongst the packs of frozen peas. “You know, technically speaking, as your doctor, I shouldn’t be offering you ice cream as your first main meal of the day, so you’ve got to promise me that you’ll _A,_ not tell anyone else I’m doing this, and _B,_ have a proper dinne-- _oh.”_ Will stopped suddenly.

“What?” Nico asked curiously.

“Ohoh _ooooo._ ”

“What _is it?”_

Will emerged, grinning and clutching a container to his chest. “You’re gonna love me.”

 _I sort of already do_ , thought Nico, and then mentally punched himself. What kind of sappy crap was that? “Am I now?”

Will turned the container around. “Mocha.”

Nico’s jaw dropped. _“You’re kidding me!_ Give that here!”

There was a moment of juggling, which somehow miraculously ended up with neither ice cream container on the floor. Nico peeled off the lid and looked inside. It was almost full. _“Oh hell yesssss,”_ he hissed. He’d never actually had mocha ice cream before, but he’d had ice cream, and he’d had mochas - so he was all too ready to embrace this new miracle of the twenty-first century.

“Wow. You’re really into that,” Will said, sounding impressed. “I think I’m gonna get you a spoon, before you give up self control and just start licking it out of the container.”

Nico was inclined to agree. He had been about to suggest they serve some out into bowls, but to be honest, there was no chance there would be anything left of the mocha ice cream once he was done with it. They might as well use the containers.

A moment later, they were settled on the floor of the big house kitchen, sitting across from each other on the pleasantly cool tile. The big house was pretty much deserted (as most of the camp was outside participating in Water Balloon Extravaganza 2: Hephaestus Cabin Figured Out How to Make a Water Cannon, and This Time It’s Personal), but they’d shoved a chair up against the door just in case. They didn’t think Chiron would approve of them raiding the camp freezer without permission. Nico closed his eyes, shoved a spoonful of the ice cream in his mouth, and oh _god_ that was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Is it good?” Will asked.

In response, Nico let out a prolonged moan. He heard Will make a choking sound like he was trying to stop himself from bursting out laughing, and opened his eyes - Will was grinning, a hand pressed over his mouth.

“Nico, oh my _god.”_

“What?” Nico asked, confused. Will sounded halfway between amused and scandalized.

“It’s just -” Will snorted with laughter and shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Nico squinted at him and slowly ate another spoonful, chewing slowly, feeling like he was missing some sort of joke here. “I’m older than you,” he said eventually.

Will paused, the spoon of chocolate ice cream halfway to his mouth. “Damn. That’s right. Keep forgetting.” He flashed Nico a grin. “Lookin’ pretty good for your age, huh?”

Nico’s stomach flipped, and he hurriedly shoved another spoonful in his mouth.

. . .

The mocha ice cream was, indeed, gone. The chocolate was as well. Nico tried to feel guilty about this, but he couldn’t find it in him. He did feel slightly guilty about whacking Will’s head with his spoon when he’d tried to steal some of the mocha, but only a little. The bastard had deserved it.

He was lying now on the cool floor, arms outstretched on either side of him, and feeling a little bit of déjà vu. This was very different from this afternoon on his cabin floor, though - because Will was beside him, and they had just finished laughing over a joke he’d told, and he felt a little warm inside, but in a good way, not in the ‘my skin is melting off my bones’ way.

He turned his head to the side to look at Will, a few strands of hair falling over his face. His hair had dried from his shower now, but he hadn’t had a chance to arrange it as he usually did, so it probably looked as ridiculous as Will’s did perfect. Will was on his back and staring at the ceiling, trying to balance his spoon on the top of his lip. The late afternoon sun was streaming through a window behind him, lighting up the edges of his profile with a golden glow, and throwing his jawline into perfect shadow. The whole image felt fuzzy around the edges slightly, like an old over-exposed photograph, or like the feeling beneath his ribcage. And that was so horribly, awfully cliché that it was actually amazing.

The contrast from earlier was staggering, really, Nico thought. He wondered briefly if it could always be like this - or if it could at least be like this more of the time. He wished he could have moods, like normal people did, instead of _Moods_ , with a capital M, that took up whole days or weeks and left him drained and empty, and then filled him right back up again to the brim. He’d never been a fan of roller-coasters.

But what if the contrast was part of what made it so great when things _were_ great? If he spent long enough around Will like this, or if one day his brain decided to finally get a fucking grip and function like a regular person’s, would he forget how to appreciate the good things? Would a candle burn as brightly in a bright room as a dark one?

Will caught Nico’s eye out of the side of his eyes and grinned.

... _Yes_ , he decided eventually. Yes, it would. Because Will was much brighter than a candle.

The spoon teetered dangerously and fell off.

What an idiot.

Will pouted for a moment, and then smiled and turned his head to face Nico. “What’re you thinking about?”

Nico shrugged awkwardly against the tile floor. “I’m being maudlin.”

He frowned. “But you can’t be maudlin! I just fed you all that ice cream! It is literally impossible to be anything but ecstatically happy after eating _that much_ ice cream.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” Nico said, and Will laughed.

Will’s hand lay a few inches from his own - he could see their fingers, too, outlined in gold like the side of Will’s face and the blond hair that swept across his forehead. It was so close, and he felt so nice right now, so _right -_ that he might just be able to - _almost -_

He reached out and twined some of Will’s fingers in his own. His skin was ever so slightly warm, but not overly so, and soft. A momentary look of surprise flitted across his face, but then it disappeared and was replaced with a smile that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Can we do this every time it gets above 75 degrees?” Nico asked quietly.

“I don’t think the camp stores of frozen treats will last that, hun.”

“Fine, 80 degrees, then.”

Will grinned. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess you could say that Nico’s...... warmed up to hot weather a little HAHA
> 
> Ok guys, jsyk next chapter may be another little while bc I have a ten page paper to write *sobs* BUT that said, I gotta enlist your help - I have a vague idea of what I want to happen next chapter but not completely, so I need prompts. 
> 
> Think... snow (ﾉ ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡°) ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧


End file.
